


These Days

by The WinneplaneO Girls (beckers), thelunaticfringe



Category: Hanson, The Moffatts
Genre: Airports, M/M, Rascal Flats, Sad, Songfic, kinda happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckers/pseuds/The%20WinneplaneO%20Girls, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelunaticfringe/pseuds/thelunaticfringe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor Hanson has just walked back into my life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Days

**Author's Note:**

> From 2006. My gosh I used to ship these two SO HARD...

_Hey, baby, is that you?_  
 _Wow, your hair got so long_  
 _Yeah, yeah I love it, I really do_

            I’m sitting in an airport terminal, waiting for a connecting flight from one nameless city to another.  Since my brothers and I don’t travel together anymore, the only way I know where I’m going is to look at my plane ticket.  I’m not playing music anymore—I decided that I should actually see the world for myself.  In the past year I’ve been to London, Paris—anyplace I think might make me forget.

            My hand goes to my neck, and I caress the pendant that hangs there—a small silver circle, simple and insignificant, yet the most treasured possession I own.  He gave it to me, long ago.  The circle meant a love that would last forever.  Unfortunately, I’m an idiot, and the love that was meant to last forever burned out too soon.

            I almost miss the familiar figure walking across the floor.  At first, I think my eyes are deceiving me, but that walk—that body—there’s only one person it could be.  The hair is longer, he’s a bit thinner, but it’s unmistakably him.

            Taylor Hanson has just walked back into my life.

            Or has he?  I can just let him walk away.  He’s a part of my past that I can never recapture.  He’s also a part of my past I can never forget—even though I told him the love burned out, it never did.  It simply smoldered, and now that I can’t have him, the fire has rekindled.

            My decision is taken from me—Taylor looks over at me, and our eyes meet.  His eyes are still that bright, magnificent blue, and I see him hesitate before he changes paths and walks over to me.

            “Scott,” he says, standing before me.  I quickly stand, and the two of us look at each other.  At last, I answer him.

            “Taylor,” I say.  “It’s—it’s been a long time.”

            “Yes,” he says.  He shuffles his feet, then says, “You look good, Scott.”

            I know he’s lying—I look like shit.  I’ve kept my hair cut short—almost too short, and I don’t sleep well.  I finally answer with the first thing that comes to my head.  “You’ve let your hair grow back out.”

            He reaches up and touches his hair, and I clench my hands to keep from reaching out and doing the same thing.  “Yeah,” he answers.  “I know it’s kind of long now, but—“

            “I like it,” I say without thinking, then nearly bite my tongue off.

            “Do you?”  He blushes a bit.

            Damn it, Taylor, stop being so damn cute. 

_“Norma Jean,” ain’t that the song we’d sing_  
 _In the car driving downtown_  
 _Top down, making the rounds_  
 _Checking out the bands on Doheny Avenue_

            “I hear that you and your brothers don’t record anymore,” Taylor says.  We’ve taken seats in the uncomfortable plastic chairs, and he looks at me curiously when he makes the statement.  I once told him that if I couldn’t make music, I just as well not breathe.  Well, things have changed.

            “Creative differences,” I tell him.  “We decided we couldn’t be brothers and be band mates, so we opted for brotherhood.  I just haven’t been able to settle down into another project just yet.”

            “What have you been doing?”

            “Traveling.  Checking out all of the sights I wasn’t able to when we were touring.”  I smile suddenly, a memory surfacing in my tortured mind.  “Do you remember when we were doing the festival in Manitoba?”

            Taylor grins suddenly, and I feel my heart lurch.  “Doheny Avenue,” he says.  “All of those little local bands.  I talked Dad into letting us drive that little convertible he rented.”  He looks a bit wistful, and I allow myself a little bit of hope, then an unbelievable sadness takes me over.  I can’t hope in a hopeless situation. 

_Yeah, life throws you curves_  
 _But you learned to swerve_  
 _Me, I swung and missed_  
 _And the next thing you know, I reminiscing_  
 _Dreaming old dreams_  
 _Wishing old wishes_  
 _Like you would be back again_

            Taylor and I talk for a good bit.  I’m on a two hour layover, and he tells me he’s got about an hour before his plane arrives.  I don’t ask where he’s going or why; I think it might hurt too much to know.

            He’s handled his life much better than I’ve handled mine.  His life is going well.  When he asks about mine, I laugh a little.  I can’t tell him what I’ve really been doing—running from old memories.  So, I hand him the usual song and dance.  I’m traveling just to visit the world—to see the sights that I didn’t get to see from behind a tinted limousine window.

            I can’t tell him what I’m really doing. 

_I wake up in teardrops that fall down like rain_  
 _I put on that old song we danced to and then_  
 _I head off to my job, guess not much has changed_  
 _Punch the clock, head for home, check the phone, just in case_  
 _Go to bed, dream of you_  
 _That’s what I’m doing these days_

            I can’t tell him that I cry myself to sleep every night because I’m a fucking moron.  I let him go because I was afraid what everyone else would say when they found out we were together.  The best memories I have are with Taylor—just the two of us, late nights after concerts.  We had an old tape that we found in a thrift store; love songs from the early eighties.  Although we laughed at the cheesy lyrics, the songs seemed describe us perfectly.  I still have the tape—I still listen to the songs.  I still get butterflies in my stomach when I check my voice mail, and then feel crushing disappointment when his voice isn’t there. 

_Me, I’ve been a few places_  
 _Mostly here and there once or twice_  
 _Still sorting out life but I’m doing all right_  
 _Yeah, it’s good to see you, too_

            I tell Taylor about the places I’ve visited, making it sound as though I’m doing exactly what I want with my life.  I slip into the role easily—no one knew about Taylor and me; we kept our love hidden.  I’ve never been honest with anyone in my life but Taylor, and now, that cherished right is gone.  I’m very good at hiding how I really feel, and I pull out all the stops now with him.  I paint a rosy picture of life on the road, but the words are hollow, and I wonder if he can sense how I really feel. 

_Well, hey, boy you’re late_  
 _And those planes, they don’t wait_  
 _But if you ever come back around_  
 _This sleepy old town_  
 _Promise me you’ll stop in_  
 _To see an old friend_

            The airport intercom comes on, and Taylor looks up.  “That’s my flight,” he says.  “Nat and Ezra will be here soon.”

            He stands, and I stand as well.  “You can’t be late,” I say, forcing a smile.  “I know you miss them when they’re gone.”

            Taylor doesn’t answer, and just when I open my mouth to speak again, I hear a voice.  “Tay!”

            When I turn, I see a young girl with a baby carriage, and I know this is Taylor’s new life.  He smiles and hurries over, greeting who can only be Natalie with a kiss, then leaning over and playing with who can only be Ezra, his son.  When he’s properly greeted his family, awkward introductions are made, and I quickly take my leave. 

_I wake up in teardrops that fall down like rain_  
 _I put on that old song we danced to and then_  
 _I head off to my job, guess not much has changed_  
 _Punch the clock, head for home, check the phone, just in case_  
 _Go to bed, dream of you_  
 _That’s what I’m doing these days_

            My flight is announced, and I walk rapidly to the terminal.  As I hand the ticket taker my ticket, I turn and see Taylor walking away.  My heart lurches, and I quickly turn back and board the plane. 

*****     *****     *****     *****     *****

            I lie awake in my hotel room.  I’m in London, and once again, I’m alone.

            My cell phone lies silent on my bedside table.  I’ve turned it off—after seeing Taylor, I don’t think I can bear talking to my family and pretending everything is all right.

            Some perverse notion overtakes me, however, and I pick up the phone.  After a moment’s hesitation, I punch in the tone to check my voice messages.  After the normal meaningless words, I hear that I have one new message.  My finger hovers over the buttons, then I press the right one and hear the words.

            “Scott?  It’s Tay.”


End file.
